Of Love and Hate: The 11th annual Hunger Games
by Guardian Number 6
Summary: Long, crappy title, I know. We know Mags. We know how she volunteered for Annie. We know how she died. But how did she get there? How did she win? Did she ever find love? Mags/OC T because...well...violence, gore, death...HELLOOO!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, this is the first chapter of my first story in the fandom. I based Mags' appearance off of, well, my imagination…I guess you can picture her as Emily from "Corpse Bride" with strawberry blond hair…oh yeah, and **_**alive, **_**of course.  
Her personality is based off of my own, so that I can r**_**eally **_**decipher her emotions at any given moment and figure out what she'd do next, I guess…I'm finishing the reaping before I post this, so the second chapter **_**should **_**already be up.**

I back away from the tall brunette, holding a spear in her left hand. She smiles at me, just as wicked as Dorothea did with every kill years ago in her own arena. The name Savera comes to mind when I look into her terrifying, pale violet eyes.

"No, no please! I thought we were friends!"

"_Friends? _You're barely an ally!"

"Savera, please!"

She lifts the spear over her shoulder, beginning to throw it down towards my heart.

I spring up in bed, my strawberry blond curls bouncing up with my sudden jerk. My mother, who had been laying out my reaping outfit, rushed to my side instinctively, subconsciously worried that I was having a seizure. When my sugar levels went too low, I'd break out, thrashing around, banging my head against the ground, only to black out and not be able to remember a thing that happened during this time period, often terrified out of my wits.

"_Maggie!" _she gasped, holding her hand to the back of my head. That's when she realized that I was fine…physically, anyway.

"…Did you have another nightmare, sweetheart?"

I nodded.

"It wasn't the regular one, mother."

I remember the very first Hunger Games. I was 7 years old. I heard the word "game" and instantly wanted to be a part of them. I was devastated when I was told that they were only for "big kids". I insisted that the day I turned 12 I would volunteer.

I still remember the cruel smile Dorothea; the Games first victor, wore as she killed each tribute. Her false horror as she "accidentally" burned her district partner, my 12-year-old next-door neighbor, my best friend's brother, to a crisp. His _true _agonizing fear was _burned _in my own mind that day, and _that's _the _regular _nightmare.

I hated her, even if she _was _my cousin.

Needless to say that in all of my years of being eligible for the Games, I've been reluctant to volunteer. Though I _have _trained, just in case my name is pulled. There's only one more reaping I have to sit through before I can stop worrying about heading off to my certain death.

I look to the outfit my mom had laid out and frown in disgust. Pale blue and frilly. Frou-frou. All in all, reminds me of _Dorothea. _She's the preppiest girly-girl I've ever met, and I'm pretty sure this is what she wore to the first reaping.

I groan. _"Mom…" _

"I know, you don't like your cousin much, but she _loves _you…plus, with your major growth spurt, nothing fits you, anymore!"

Up until recently, I was about 4'5". I know it's crazy. But I grew 3 inches short (ha, short) of a foot within a short 2 months. My once full-length PJ pants were now capris and too big in the waist due to the weight it made me lose. If we'd been prepared for my unexpected final chance at growing, we may have been fine and I wouldn't be stuck wearing my tall cousin's hand-me-downs from when she was 8. I now stood at 5'2" and weighed only 80lbs. I was flat-chested and had no visible curves, actually, a quite boyish build.

I'd always hated dresses and skirts in general. I was pretty much the perfect stereotype of a tomboy. The only time I'd ever wear my _kilt _was when my uniform pants were dirty and I had to last the rest of the week. Usually I only caved when I'd fallen in a puddle of mud or got into a fight.

I examine one of my curls. I'd had it short for a few years, but I'd found it too annoying to be constantly asked whether I was male or female, though I miss not having to deal with it being in my eyes or having to take an hour to brush it out.

"Why can't I just wear my new uniform? It still fits!" The uniform company didn't make high school uniforms for teens of my size, so we'd had to buy the smallest and pin it. It's still a _little _big, but that was to be expected. People tend to be much larger in district four, being favored by the Capitol, along with the first two consecutive districts, 1 & 2.

"Because you have to be formal in case you go to the Capitol this year, Maggie."

"Mom, you _know _that I hate that nickname."

"My point is still the same."

"Your point is still irrelevant. I have nice dress pants and a lovely blouse for this year."

My mother rolls her eyes.  
"No. You're wearing Dorothea's first reaping dress, and that's that."

"But _why?" _I whine

"You're just awful today, aren't you?"

"Haven't you noticed the trend these past six years?"

She closed the door behind her, leaving me to myself to get ready. I stare at the dress and feel disgusted all over again. It _had _been the dress she'd worn to the first reaping at age 15. I smile. It's too big. I pump my fist and walk from my ocean-themed bedroom.

"_Mom! _The dress is too big!" I shout down the stairs

"It's better than Capri-length formal pants! Just put it on, I'll pin it!"

I growl in anger and slam my door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

I give the Peacekeeper my finger and he draws my blood. I smile as I walk off, knowing that this is the last year that my name will be in the Reaping bowl.

"Hey, Mags!" I turn to see Marcus. He's been my best friend since I was 7 and he was 6. He, like me, is pretty short and skinny. His dirty blond hair has been spiked up, despite the formal event, his green eyes focused on the dress I've been forced into, a mocking look to them as he laughs.

"…Shut up…" I groan, folding my hands across my flat chest.

He laughs harder, and I secretly hope that he pees himself laughing in those silly little dress pants.

The buzzer goes off and we know to get to our age groups. I stand at the front on the girls' side and he stands 1 row back on the boys'. My cousin is sitting on the stage, lazily chewing her gum, not really paying attention to Harp, our escort.

The elderly man pulls a name from the girls' fishbowl lazily. After watching the coverage of other reapings and looking at their escorts, I wonder how such an old, bitter man got the job.

I start to think about it. What would it be like to be a career tribute? Being confident in your survival, and then once you've become cocky enough to let your guard down, an ally stabs you in the back…millions of sponsors…

"I…I said…Magdelaine Applesap has…received the honor of being the 11th annual Hunger Games' district four…tribute" he shouted, gasping for air. Oops. I guess I hadn't been paying attention. Even Dorothea is staring at me from the stage.

I walk slowly, resisting the urge to yank at the reaping outfit. I hear whispers as I begin forward.

"_She's Dorothea's cousin!"_

"_I know! I see her training outside _all _the _time."

"_Nobody should even _bother _volunteering!"_

Well, that's just great, isn't it?

I step onto the stage, keeping a straight, almost apathetic, face.

"Magdelaine Applesap?"

"No, Dorothea Tulsa." I blurt, my sarcasm evident as…I can't really think of a comparison.

"Well then." He snaps and turns towards the boys' fishbowl.

"Marcus Bartleby!"

I take in a sharp breath. This is _so _rigged. Just as he makes it onto the stage, Harp asks for volunteers. An annoyingly familiar boy steps forward, with his usual smug smirk plastered on his face.

"And what's your name?" Harp asks, not an ounce of surprise in his voice.

"Scorpio Boggs."

I hold back my snarl of disgust. Why did _he _have to volunteer _this _year?

The dark buzz cut and sea blue eyes, the slightly pale skin, the same tall, muscular build. Once I heard his name, I knew that there was no denying that the boy I'll be shipped off to my death with this year is practically my mortal enemy.

"Boggs, eh? Didn't your father die in the Games?"

"Yeah. Accidental burns. I'm going to restore the honor his killer took from my family." I'm startled by his voice. So filled with anger and hatred. The only other time I've ever heard him so mad was…

"I'm sure you will. You're 18, right?"  
"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well, _ladies and gentlemen, I give you this year's tributes of district four!"_

He turns to us. I fight the urge to squeeze Scorpio's hand as we shake.

"And may the odds be _ever _in your favor"

**A/N: Yes, I **_**did **_**say that Dorothea's district partner was Mags' best friend's brother…Okay, if you're not getting this, I'm kind of worried. But, nonetheless, it **_**will **_**be explained later. **

**Yes, Mags said her cousin's name onstage. **

**This is shorter than the introduction, and my chapters tend to be small in general. Deal with it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Um…I failed at one point last chapter…I said Scorpio's "father" died in the Games, but I meant to say his BROTHER died in the Games. Sorry 'bout that…**

My first visitor's my mother. What a surprise. Also a _big surprise, _tears are flowing like a river down her tanned face. She looks at me with her emerald green eyes. The ones I inherited from her.

"_Mags!"_She gasps in-between hiccups.  
"Mom!" Is all I can get out. Every other word I've attempted to say has gotten caught in my throat.  
We sit in silence, neither of us knowing that to say to the other.  
She struggles against the Peacekeeper as he removes her by force from the room.

That's when Marcus bursts into the room. Before I know it, I'm trapped in a bone-crushing hug.  
"Mags, listen to me! Just listen! You can do this!"  
"Do _what,_ Marcus? Win? Look at me, I'm _tiny!"  
_"But mighty! Mags, you can beat up half of the guys at our school! Hell, you _have _beaten up half of the guys at our school! You _can win this!"  
_I nod, not wanting to argue with him anymore. He pulls me into another hug that lasts until he's forced to leave.

Next are my siblings. I find it odd that they didn't come in with our mom, but I don't bring it up. After all, this will probably be my last time ever seeing them. I pat the space next to me on the black leather couch as if to say "sit down", but Nitya runs right onto my lap and into my arms after her fraternal twin, Crucius, takes the place I'd offered. My own twin sits on the arm of the couch, next to me. I look up at her.

Mizar has my same hair, but that's where the resemblance ends. She has our tall father's genetics, but our mother's face and his brown eyes and fair skin. She and Nitya could pass for the same person at a different age. Crucius looks more like me, but with our mother's inky black hair.

I look down at Nitya and realize that I can no longer see her eyes, as they're being covered by her hands. I hear sobbing sounds and am able to watch them rack through her body. I make soothing sounds as I bring her head to my chest and stroke her curly hair, which has been pulled into a semi-updo for the reaping.

"Hey, I'll make it back. Just you watch." I tell them. No time for greetings or any other formalities. I've learned this from my goodbyes with my mother and with Marcus.

We sit for a moment in awkward silence before Mizar says what we're all almost certainly thinking.

"Mags, there are 24 tributes. You're small. You have little to no chances."

I've always admired Mizar's brutal honesty, but in this case, I couldn't want to be lied to any more than I do. Nitya screams and lifts her head, swinging at the sister she's always been extremely close to.

"How could you say that to her at a time like this? You're a monster! A worse monster than the Gamemakers forcing her to do this, Mizar!" my 14-year-old sister screamed. I notice my brother of the same age get up and put himself in an offensive position, clearly preparing to swing at Mizar, also.

That's when I blackout. I guess the stress has become too much to handle.

When I awaken, I receive the shock of my life.

I could have sworn that he'd said his final goodbyes to us years ago when he left my mother, siblings and I to fend for ourselves when I was 10. It's my father.

I back away from him, instinctively. After his fallout with mom, I'd wanted nothing to do with this man. It was bad enough that every time I looked into a mirror I saw his same high cheekbones, strawberry blonde hair, freckles and thin neck.

"Maggie," he starts in his raspy voice, but I cut him off.

"Don't call me that. Don't even speak. Just leave. Now."

"Now, Magdelaine, hold on!"

"Why are you here? You left us. You want even less to do with me than I want to do with you."

"Hold on!"

I stop, deciding to let him speak.

"They let you wear one thing from your district. One thing to remind you of home. They call it your token."

I nod. I know this. I think _anyone _who's watched the Games knows this. Dorothea's had been a necklace, made from black rope and a blue glass charm. I'd never gotten a close look at this charm, but I knew it had to be related to district 4 in some way, as she later claimed that it had been as if the entire district had been standing behind her.

"Well, seeing as you probably don't have one I-"

"No."

"It's just a-"

"**No, **dad"

"Magdelaine, listen to me!"

"Father, I've already had a seizure, today. **Don't stress me out more."**

"Laney, please, just"

I begin to scream, knowing that they'll remove him by force if they believe he's a threat. _Can't have a tribute getting hurt, now can we? _I mentally joke to myself.

As I believed, a Peacekeeper escorted my father from the Justice Building, or, at least, the room.

I sit back down on the couch. Within a few moments, I realize that there's no one else who cared enough about me to wish me well in the Games. I suddenly wish I hadn't been so ungrateful for my father's unexpected drop-in.

**A/N: I apologize, but I ran out of inspiration for the visits and therefore had to cut them much shorter than expected. If you want, you can pretend that more guests came during her seizure, but left quickly when realizing that they didn't know how to help her. I dunno. Just interpret this however the hell you want to. **


End file.
